Sunrise
by LouBelle04
Summary: Set three weeks post 9.1. Ruth asks Harry for a drink; can they finally make it work?


**Sunrise**

 **This fic was inspired by a song from the Broadway musical "In The Heights". The song also lends its name to the title of this work, although I've (obviously) no affiliation with the authors/producers of anything, be it Spooks or Into The Heights. I've taken some (read: quite a few) words directly from the song too. Basically, anything you recognise isn't mine.**

 **Thanks to Shao7 for helping me out on the Spanish front. Also, to theoofoof for checking the whole thing through for me and giving me some invaluable pointers! You're both wonderful.**

 **This is set about three weeks after Harry's proposal in Series 9, and I'll be honest, the plot is majorly watery as there are so many holes in it. I hope nobody minds too much!**

* * *

There was a knock on his office door, and he looked up sharply. He'd assumed everyone had already left for the night, but as the person who had now slid open his office door and walked inside proved, he was clearly wrong.

"Harry.." Ruth trailed off, and as disinclined as Harry was to help her out, since his proposal three weeks ago, the pure vulnerability that she exuded left him with no choice.

"Yes, Ruth?" The warmth he usually felt at the sight of her didn't quite make it into his voice, and Ruth almost flinched at the lack of feeling from him. The coldness in his tone helped to steel Ruth to speak.

"Harry, we have to sort this out. This.. _civility_ can't go on, not at work. It's affecting the team; they've all noticed that something has been wrong since you… since Ros' funeral." Harry's expression was unreadable, and Ruth seemed to run out of steam. "Can we just… get a drink? Please?"

"I agree, Ruth." Ruth's face softened from the frozen and worried expression it had been in only moments before, and she made to take half a step deeper into the office. "On one condition."

At Harry's words, Ruth froze mid-step and looked up. Harry saw that the tension had returned to her face.

"We don't mention work, or anything which happened at Ros' funeral, or thereafter."

Ruth breathed a visible sigh of relief and she nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "When would you like to go? I can be finished up in five minutes."

"Pods in five? Okay," he nodded.

Ruth nodded back, hesitating slightly before she left. For a split second, Harry was reminded of the Ruth before she was exiled and couldn't help but grin.

Perhaps they were finally moving forward.

* * *

After perhaps five minutes of awkward silences and stilted conversation, Ruth broke the ice between them when Harry ordered some chips for them to share. She told Harry how a child down her road had sellotaped a frozen chip to the window of a car, and placed a note next to it, with the words "Autoglass repair, Autoglass replace." Harry looked at her as if she was quite mad, before dissolving into laughter, which then infected Ruth.

Once they had finally bridged the gap between them, the two Spooks had been sitting easily in the pub, chatting happily and effortlessly for almost two hours. When the bell for closing time sounded, they looked up in surprise, having been too carried away and comfortable in each other's company to pay any attention to the time. They checked each other's drinks to see how much was left, Ruth smiling as she watched Harry down the remainder of his whiskey, after raising it towards her in a silent toast.

"Shall we?" he asked, having noticed her glass was already empty.

"Let's," Ruth nodded.

They exited the pub in silence and as Harry turned to make the walk back to Thames House, Ruth grabbed at his arm. "Harry..?"

"My car is still at Thames House," he explained.

"You can't possibly be under the limit."

Harry paused for second, mentally adding up the drinks, and moved back towards Ruth in acquiescence. She didn't let go of his arm, but her grip loosened slightly, so that her hand slipped down nearer to his wrist. Harry felt a trail of warmth where her fingertips had been, and still were.

"A taxi then," he suggested.

"Okay," she agreed.

Ruth made to walk ahead, to where she knew the taxi rank was located, and was surprised when she felt Harry catch hold of her hand as she did so. Once he caught up with her he entwined their fingers without a word. After a few minutes' walk, they reached the taxi rank, and Harry opened the door. She was only slightly surprised when Harry got in the taxi behind her and gave the driver her address.

"Harry, you don't need to see me home, honestly."

"I know, but I want to. It would be just our luck for something to happen were I to leave you to make your own way home." Harry was barely joking, and Ruth smiled at him, shaking her head in amusement.

"Okay." It was only when she felt his thumb rubbing hers that Ruth realised he had not yet let go of her hand.

Ruth settled back into the seat of the taxi and she became aware that, for the first time in a long, long time, she was content. She had thoroughly enjoyed her evening with Harry, and was pleased that he had requested they not speak about work or his proposal. It had led to a lovely and peaceful atmosphere between the two of them. She found herself wishing that she could keep a hold of that feeling for at least a little longer. She turned her body slightly towards Harry, who was staring out of the window, watching the lights of London go by, and squeezed his hand. He turned to face her, and smiled. A few minutes later, Ruth became aware of more familiar surroundings, and directed the taxi driver to the part of the street he needed.

She got out of the taxi and Harry followed.

"Harry, really…"

"I'll see you to the door, Ruth."

Their hands still linked, Harry asked the driver to wait and followed Ruth up the path. They stood at the door, neither wishing to break the spell until Harry spoke.

"I had a lovely evening tonight, Ruth, thank you."

"Me too, Harry. I feel like it's flown by," she hesitated. "Would you like to come in, for a drink? I have tea, coffee, whisky, wine, water, hot chocolate, squash…." Ruth was cut off by Harry's acceptance of her offer. He glanced back towards the taxi and Ruth nodded.

It was almost a wrench to release each other's hands, but they did so, as Ruth unlocked her door, and Harry returned to the taxi, reaching for his wallet as he went. He would call another one when he was ready, he decided.

Ruth had left the door open for him to return to the house once he finished with the taxi, and after placing his coat on a hook by the door, Harry wandered into the front room of the flat Ruth shared with Beth. He took a moment to thank the group of Spanish/British men whose presence on the MI-5 radar meant Beth was working a night shift at Thames House to keep an eye on them. The last thing he wanted was for Ruth to be scared off (again) by their colleagues, just when they were beginning to get somewhere.

Realising that Ruth wasn't in the room, Harry moved onto the kitchen, where Ruth was stood, leaning against a wall waiting for the kettle to boil. She looked up and smiled as he entered the room and he returned her gesture warmly. She looked beautiful, stood in the soft light of the kitchen (something which Harry noted that was due to only two out of four of the light bulbs working).

"I didn't know whether you would prefer coffee or tea this late in the day," she said. "Or maybe, you'd prefer something alcoholic?"

"Tea's fine, Ruth." Harry moved towards her, and moved to take her hand again. He didn't know what it was about the evening that had made him so much bolder than he usually was where Ruth was concerned, but he was glad that he was feeling brave, as Ruth looked down at their joined hands. She blushed lightly as Harry ran his thumb over her wrist and squeezed her fingers.

He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her and ran his free hand up Ruth's other arm and to her neck, where he paused the movement to lightly stroke the area between her ears and collar bone. Ruth leaned back more heavily against the wall, letting out a soft sigh, which Harry took as a sign of encouragement. Ruth's other hand had come to rest by his hips, where she had hooked a thumb through one of this belt loops. It felt so natural to be stood like this, and Harry barely noticed the whistling of the kettle, signalling the water had boiled.

He ran his hand from her neck to her chin and the heat between them was almost unbearable as Harry leaned in for what was to be their second kiss in almost five years. As they got closer Harry's hips pushed Ruth's into the wall and Ruth let out another deep breath. He was millimetres away from her, and he looked into her eyes for permission to carry on, when they both heard his phone sound. Immediately, he realised it was a red flash, and seemingly Ruth did too as she froze.

Harry's forehead dropped so that it was touching Ruth's, and he felt her deflate slightly, in what he hoped was disappointment. Ruth squeezed his hand once more and whispered quietly.

"You should get that. It'll be important."

With monumental effort, Harry pulled away from Ruth, but kept a hold of her fingers until the very last second before he leaving the room to fetch his coat, where his phone was stashed in a pocket. If he had looked back towards Ruth, he would have seen her drop the back of her head onto the wall behind her, frustration written all over her features.

* * *

It was thirty minutes later when Harry and Ruth walked through the pods at Thames House, Ruth's red flash having sounded mere moments after Harry had left her kitchen. The two of them were met by Lucas who briefed them on the situation with the British Spaniards whom Beth had been monitoring. Apparently, they had made contact with a group of men who were able to supply them with arms. The men were planning to use these weapons to stage some kind of heist against the government. Lucas explained that Harry was to go and meet one of the leaders of the group. Lucas gave Harry the file on the man, or men, he would be meeting, in a pub, hopefully two days from now.

"Tariq has already made contact with one of these men, in your stead, and tomorrow he will request that the two of you meet. From what we understand from the obbo van, they speak mainly in English, but will retreat into Spanish when they are discussing sensitive information. We'll have someone listening in, but we need you to understand at least part of what's being said. Your legend hasn't spent a lot of time in Spain, but his mother was Spanish, so he will have grown up understanding the basics of the language."

"I've not spoken Spanish in about twenty years. I can't be the right person to be heading this meet, Lucas."

Lucas shook his head. "You're the right age, Harry. I'm sure the language will come back to you. You just need practise."

"Lucas is right, Harry," agree Ruth, "You're the only one of us who will be believable as a retired business man with a grudge against the system." They locked eyes for a moment before Ruth spoke again. "I can help you with the Spanish side of things if you're a bit rusty."

"That's what we were going to suggest," said Lucas.

At that moment, Beth appeared with another manila folder, which she handed to Harry.

"Your legend."

Harry took the file with barely contained hostility and flipped it open. He was relieved to see that what Lucas had said was true, and his Spanish didn't need to be perfect, just passable. "Okay," he said. "I'll read this tonight, and Ruth, we can start Spanish revision tomorrow," he turned to her, "If that's okay with you?"

She nodded and smiled.

"Right then, I suggest we all head home and get some sleep. Tariq, that includes you," he added, as the young techie walked past the four of them.

Once the group started to disperse, Harry tried to catch Ruth but she had disappeared with Tariq, and as he approached the two of them, he could hear them talking about the operation as Tariq shut down his system. As much as he might have wanted to, he couldn't justify pulling Ruth away from a work discussion so that he could discuss a personal issue with her. Although he wouldn't exactly call their near kiss an issue. In fact, Harry was rather hoping to catch Ruth so that he could ask her out for a drink again, although perhaps the actual evening would have to wait until after the operation.

* * *

The next day had not gone particularly well, and Harry had been hauled into meetings with the Home Secretary and the DG. The former to get a bollocking about something or other, and the latter to brief the DG about the operation he would be working on. Tariq had tested Harry on his legend, and then Harry had been called into another meeting with the head of MI-6 who, despite Harry's insistence that the meeting could wait, just wouldn't be put off.

As a result, he'd had barely any time to practise his Spanish with Ruth. She had ensured that they had a few brief moments, appearing at his office door each time he stepped onto The Grid. It had been just enough time for Harry to realise that his once decent Spanish skills had completely vanished from his brain. It was only with a fair bit of coaching from Ruth that he had been able to recall how to say his name and age, and even then she'd had to model by telling him her name first.

When Harry had been called out to meet the Home Secretary, Ruth had suggested that Harry come to her flat to continue their language lessons once the meeting were over. He readily agreed.

That was how, three hours later at half past seven, Harry found himself pressing the doorbell to Ruth's flat, with a bag of Indian takeaway.

They ate, once more, in comfortable silence and once the plates and food containers had been cleared, they turned their attention to the business of work.

Ruth had managed to find a Spanish dictionary on her shelves, so had placed that on the table between them as she flicked through the two manila folders for what seemed like the tenth time. She had decided to go right back to the beginning with Harry, and help him remember, or teach him all sorts of words, many of which would more than likely not come in useful for the meet the next day. She did think, however, that it would help Harry to pick out things when the men were talking, and also would help it sound as if he hadn't been re-taught Spanish the evening before.

They had been going over the basics for about an hour when Harry suddenly encountered a block. He and Ruth had been having a stilted conversation about Harry's family, pets and house when Harry suddenly went blank and he could not even recall how to ask someone to repeat what they had said; something that Ruth had taught him barely fifteen minutes earlier. He sat, getting more and more frustrated, as Ruth repeated her words to him once, twice, and then in English, trying to encourage him to keep going.

"For God's sake! This is just ridiculous." Harry almost shouted as he threw the operational file across the room, where it was closely followed by the dictionary. "There's no bloody point to this operation, and absolutely no need for me to have to recall this stupid bloody language!"

Ruth stood abruptly. "I'll make some tea," she said, before leaving the room rapidly.

Harry sank back onto the sofa and put his head in his hands. He sighed deeply, realising it was unfair of him to take his frustrations out on Ruth, and he knew it, especially when she was going to so much trouble to help him. He stood slowly and went to retrieve the items he had thrown.

* * *

As Ruth returned, she looked at Harry. She had chosen to bring wine and whiskey back from the kitchen; despite saying she was making tea when she had left the room. Harry was sitting on her sofa, staring into a corner, his fingers clinging onto the manila folder on his lap, pulling at the corners slightly. She smiled a little, recognising one of her own habits in Harry. Ruth realised that he must have gone to fetch it from across the room whilst she was in the kitchen. She noticed that the dictionary had also been returned to its place on the coffee table.

"Are you ready to try again?" She asked, quietly.

"I think I'm ready," came the response.

She nodded, placing the drinks on the table before them.

She poured the two of them a drink; she, a glass of wine, he, a tumbler of whiskey.

"Okay, here we go."

Harry looked at her, slightly surprised she had chosen to sit on the sofa, merely inches from him, rather than returning to her original spot across the table.

"Esquina," she said, her tone questioning.

"Corner." Ruth's face was inscrutable and Harry's confidence wavered slightly, suddenly unsure that his answer was correct.

"Tienda."

"Store."

"Bombilla."

"Lightbulb".

Ruth looked at him, eyes worried. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," he answered. He held her gaze and was relieved to see her eyes light up in a smile.

"3 out of 3." She nodded at him. "You did alright."

The two of them sipped their drinks in silence until it became suffocating. Ruth was wondering - not for the first time - what her evenings would have been like had she accepted Harry's poorly timed proposal. Harry, on the other hand, was thinking how glad he was that he had accepted Ruth's offer of a crash course in Spanish. At the time, he hadn't known she meant, at her house, alone, in the evening.

Harry looked over to Ruth, who was absentmindedly stroking the rim of her wine glass. She looked so much more relaxed than she had in the previous weeks, and Harry realised that it was his doing. He was at least partly to blame for the tension she carried since Ros' funeral, and he was sure that her relaxed state had more to do with her enjoyment of being back on an even keel with him than the wine she had consumed. He moved a little closer to her and the movement seemed to jolt Ruth from her thoughts.

"Teach me a little more," he requested gently.

Ruth leant forward and plucked the dictionary from beneath their dinner plates.

"Calor," she said, as she handed it to him.

There was a moment as Harry thumbed through the book, running his index finger down the page until he found the relevant word.

"Heat." He looked up at her, hope barely disguised in his eyes, hers still indecipherable.

"Anoche."

Another pause as Harry scrambled to find the correct section of the dictionary.

Harry felt his heart soar as he found the word. "Last night," he pronounced.

"Dolor."

As he flipped the pages, he noticed Ruth fiddling with her hands once more, a clear sign that she was nervous. He felt his happiness deflate as he translated the word.

"Pain…" He looked at her, and she avoided his eye. "Ruth.." he began, but was cut off.

"That's right," she said quietly. "Llamame."

Harry flipped to the 'L' section but struggled. He looked at Ruth for help. She spelled the word out for him.

He noticed that the first part of the word was listed as 'call', and something from long ago clicked in the back of his head.

"Call me," he said, smirking as Ruth smiled at him.

"See, you can remember something, Harry."  
He took a sip of his whiskey. "Keep going," he instructed, and Ruth raised an eyebrow. "Please?" he added.

She nodded.

"Azul."

"Blue." Noticing that he hadn't needed to refer to the dictionary for that one, Ruth shot him a smile which made his stomach clench slightly.

Ruth took a gulp of her wine, followed by a deep breath. Harry was momentarily nonplussed but when she next spoke, he understood the reason for the delaying tactics.

"Amame," her voice came out barely louder than a whisper, and Harry had to think back to his Spanish classes for barely more than two seconds before he knew what she was trying to say to him.

He leant forward, reaching out to pull Ruth's hands into his own, pausing only to place her glass on the coffee table. He stroked the back of her hands with his thumbs, and shuffled sideways on the sofa until one of their knees were touching.

"Love me," he said, equally quietly.

There was a moment of silence where Ruth locked eyes with Harry, her gaze searching. "Perhaps I do."

His breath caught slightly as he reached out with one hand to stroke her cheek.

"How do you say kiss me?"

"Besame."

Harry leant forward and did just that.

* * *

The kiss quickly became passionate. When Ruth felt Harry's hand skim the side of her breast, she pulled away, conscious of the work they still had to do before the night was over. Harry looked at her, his worry that he had gone too far, too soon, written across his face. She stroked his cheek and smiled.

"We need to keep going," she said, softly.

Harry nodded, but leaned in once more and pressed a kiss to her lips. It only lasted a second, but it was enough time for Ruth to sink into it, and then she was prepared to forget all about the operation for the chance to keep kissing Harry for the rest of the evening.

Harry settled himself once more with the dictionary, and they spent the rest of the evening testing Harry on the vocabulary they had already gone through, adding new words here and there. Every so often, when he had mastered a new word or phrase, Harry rewarded himself with stealing a kiss from Ruth, who had given up trying to keep him concentrated solely on Spanish, and let him kiss her more and more often.

Finally, she proclaimed that he would be ready for the meet, and Harry grinned. By this point, it was almost half past eleven, and after many more distracting kisses, Harry suggested that he should go and that they would both need to get some rest before the meeting tomorrow. It had been agreed by Lucas and Tariq that Ruth should be the one to listen in, and translate any Spanish the men spoke. Tariq decided that an earpiece would be too difficult to conceal from the men, so Harry was to be on his own with the Spanish side of things.

Although Ruth wanted Harry to stay, she knew the next day was important, and that Harry would need to be free from distractions. They stood from the sofa, and made their way into the hall, Ruth hovering by the door as Harry shrugged on his coat. They kissed once more and, like before, it quickly became passionate, with Ruth pressed against the wall in barely any time at all, while she and Harry groped at one another. Harry reluctantly pulled away before his libido took over, and smiled at Ruth, brushing her hair away from her face.

"I'd like to take you to dinner," he said, and was gratified to see Ruth's eyes light up as she smiled.

"I'd love to."

"Is tomorrow evening, after the operation, too soon?"

She shook her head and leaned in for one more quick kiss, before opening her front door.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night Ruth," Harry said, and Ruth echoed his words, lingering over his name.

* * *

Just under twenty hours later, the operation was over. Harry having gotten most of the information they needed from the meet, and Ruth translating anything he had missed from the safety of the obbo van loitering nearby. Ruth was back on The Grid waiting for Harry to reappear after his meeting with the DG, to debrief him on how the operation had gone.

As she went to make herself a cup of tea from the kitchen, she heard her name spoken by Beth, who had been drafter in early to assist with the operation.

"Ruth must be a whizz of a Spanish teacher – they did well with getting the information we needed!"

Lucas laughed lightly, "From the way Harry's been walking around the place whistling all day, I'd guess that Spanish isn't all they did."

Ruth felt herself freeze as she recalled a time, almost five years ago where she had been put off her burgeoning relationship with Harry by gossip by the other team members. _Not again, I can't stand it again._

While Ruth had been worrying, she barely realised that Lucas was still talking.

"Did you notice they came back here together after the red flash the other night?"

"I did. Good for them, I say. I'm just glad I was here and not playing third wheel at home!"

Ruth swallowed deeply and walked into the kitchen as if she hadn't just heard Beth and Lucas talking. They smiled at her and congratulated her on a job well done. Ruth realised that that is exactly what they would have done if they hadn't known something was happening between her and Harry. She forced herself to smile, accept their thanks and talk with them until her tea was ready. She then made her excuses and returned to her desk, thinking hard.

* * *

By the time Harry returned to The Grid, it was five minutes after nine, and he sought Ruth's eyes out as soon as he stepped through the pods. Ruth smiled back at him softly and was about to speak when Lucas and Beth spotted the boss and in turn, congratulated him on the job, and his Spanish.

"Well, I had a good teacher," he responded lightly, and Ruth fought down a blush.

Once Lucas and Beth had disappeared once more, Harry approached Ruth, and asked if she would be done in half an hour. She readily agreed, and Harry said he would ring a few places close by to see if they had any tables remaining.

Ruth smiled warmly at him once more, and began to slowly finish up her work.

* * *

Ruth was relaxing on her sofa with a glass of wine while Harry was in the bathroom. She was contemplating what a lovely evening she had spent, once again, in Harry's company. That evening, in between enjoying herself, and talking with Harry, she had done a lot of thinking, and she had realised that she was not the same person as she was when she left to go into exile; when she ended things with Harry after the gossip of her colleagues had scared her off.

She felt ready to put her fears to the side, and make a go of things with Harry. She hoped he still felt the same. She was almost sure that he was, after the last couple of evenings.

Harry returned and topped up her glass, smiling at her as he did so. He sat next to her, and grinned cheekily.

"Remind me how to say kiss me, in Spanish?"

Ruth laughed lightly at him, but nevertheless answered his question.

"Besame." She leant in to his inevitable kiss, and felt that, in that moment, life was perfect. She just needed to talk to him about what would happen between them. Once she pulled back from the kiss, she stayed close, and spoke softly in Harry's ear. "What.. where..?"

As she trailed off, embarrassed, Harry pulled away from her and stoked her cheek.

"What is it, Ruth?"

"Yo no se."

Harry looked befuddled for a moment, before Ruth reached to the coffee table and threw the Spanish dictionary at him lightly, a challenge in her eyes, along with not a small amount of nerves.

It took Harry mere moments to respond to her, a question in his voice. "I don't know..?"

Ruth nodded lightly, letting him know he had translated correctly. "Que hacer."

A moment's pause before Harry replied. "What to do."

"Ahora que estoy con usted,"

It took Harry a while to figure out what Ruth was saying, even with the dictionary and he had to ask her to repeat it more than once. When he figured it out, he was torn between triumph at having worked it out, and despondency at her words.

"Now that I am with you," he looked at her carefully, "Ruth, what do you mean?"

"What will they say?"

"What will who say?"

Ruth sighed. "People," At the look in Harry's eyes, Ruth hastened to make herself clear. "No, not them.. I… the higher ups," she paused, "I'm not about to make the same mistake twice, Harry." Although there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, Ruth was sure he wasn't convinced. "I heard Beth and Lucas talking about us earlier. They guessed that something had happened between us, but they didn't know I was there. They said they were pleased, and then when I went into the kitchen, they didn't treat me any differently than they have done every other day. They didn't do anything out of the ordinary with you, either." While she was talking, Ruth reached over to Harry and picked up his hands, where they were sat nervously in his lap. "I'm sorry. I never should have run away the last time. I got scared and panicked. It won't happen again, I'm … I'm sure about you and I think it's about time that we started where we should have been for years."

Harry kissed her lightly and when Ruth responded enthusiastically, Harry had to force himself to stop them from going further than he was sure they were ready for, especially considering Ruth's admission of that evening. As he stopped their kiss, he was gratified to hear Ruth let out a low moan. He held her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks.

"Ruth. I'm going to call a taxi to take me home. I don't think we should … do anything this evening. You need time to think things through and make certain you're sure about what you were saying earlier."

"I am, Harry. I've thought of little else all evening, ever since I heard Beth and Lucas. I want you to stay here tonight. Prométeme que se alojará. Promise me you'll stay." Harry smiled at her, love shining from his eyes. "I _love_ you. Para siempre."

When no translation was forthcoming, Harry groaned. "Don't make me reach for the dictionary, Ruth, not right now!"

She laughed at him, and leaning in, whispered one word against his lips. "Always."

* * *

 **I apologise to any Spaniards who may have read this! I hope you weren't offended by Harry's comment near the beginning. Although I never had the chance to learn Spanish, it's a pretty language and not, by any means, a "stupid bloody" one.**

 **I've also nicked the slogan from Autoglass here, and the story of the child and the chip is not mine, but I did find it quite amusing, so thought I'd include it here. I don't know if the joke will translate for anyone not British, but you never know!**

 **I have to say, I didn't actually manage to get the title into this at all, but it's a lovely phrase; 'al amanecer' which means 'at sunrise'.**

 **LBx**


End file.
